


when tomorrow comes

by tmylm



Series: the bechloe kiss [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Morning Sex, Smut, bechloe - Freeform, bechloe kiss, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: The Bechloe kiss; the morning after the night before.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: the bechloe kiss [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104863
Comments: 19
Kudos: 132





	when tomorrow comes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, anon, for the prompt!
> 
> “Can you make a morning after story after their first first night together (after ‘The Kiss’) and Beca or Chloe wakes up remembering their night before and can’t believe what happened and they’re finally there, mesmerised by the other person’s face and body looking at it in a different light. Oh and also morning smut winkwink”

All things considered, the ease at which Beca had managed to fall asleep last night really does make very little sense. Taking into account the sheer adrenaline rush of performing (solo, for the most part) for an unbelievably large crowd made up vastly of strangers and a literal celebrity, followed directly by the utter elation of _finally_ getting to kiss the woman Beca has wanted to kiss for so many years now, it would be safe to have assumed that she would spend the entire night floating—or at the very least pacing back and forth in a futile effort to shake off an understandable amount of residual nervous energy. With all of that in mind, the fact that she wakes to a morning sun lightened room is almost implausible to her.

The reality is, however, as Beca registers the long arm stretched out casually beneath her neck, the feeling of Chloe’s chest moving with her soft breathing against the curve of her back, she has truly never felt so incredibly safe, so ridiculously comfortable in the presence of another human being before. That, she realizes as she bends her sleep-stiffened arm to delicately trail the tips of her fingers over smooth, lightly freckled skin, is exactly how she managed so easily to drift off last night. It is like, finally, cloaked in the protection of everything that is Chloe Beale, Beca has magically found her peace.

In actuality, though, there is nothing magical about it, nothing crazy or otherworldly. This is not some farfetched, age-old fairytale, nor is it one of those cheesy rom-coms Beca generally likes to make fun of. This is real life, it is a version of real life that Beca is sure she will never quite wrap her head around, but somehow it is happening. It is really, finally happening, and the gentle movement of Chloe’s body twisting on the mattress behind her only solidifies the reality, tells Beca wordlessly that she is here, that this is not all in her mind.

While she initially plans to chance a quick glance over her shoulder to see if Chloe is awake yet, Beca receives confirmation in the way the arm tucked comfortably beneath her neck bends to slowly tug her body closer, and Beca’s lips naturally curve into a small, lazy smile as she shuffles her body into Chloe’s warm embrace. Soft lips push a delicate kiss into the smooth curve of Beca’s neck, and she revels beneath the feeling of genuine comfort it brings to her, in the way that simply being this close to Chloe Beale, in a way she knows she should’ve been for so many years now, truly makes her feel so grounded, so whole.

“Good morning,” Chloe murmurs quietly against warm skin, hushed words vibrating into her body in a way that causes a distinct shiver down Beca’s spine. It is such a new feeling—not necessarily the spine-tingling she has absolutely experienced many times before in Chloe’s very presence; that is certainly nothing new—but already, it just feels so natural, so _normal_. It is like they have been doing this the whole time.

Beca almost doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to break their position and have to succumb to the morning after the night before, mostly because that would mean the night before is officially over. But it is too tempting for her not to eventually twist carefully in Chloe’s arms in favor of a glimpse of her favorite face, and Beca is anything but disappointed as she catches that first beautiful sight.

And the realization hits her like the most welcome ton of bricks, as her sleepy gaze meets with Chloe’s, that it doesn’t matter that it is the morning after now; this is not some random, one-time thing. It was never going to be. This does not have to end here.

“You’re still here,” Chloe breathes, and Beca can almost visualize the sight of the weight leaving her body. While it is in reference to last night’s conversation, the statement still causes something of a heart-wrenching feeling inside of Beca, a small twist in her stomach, though it is aimed at only herself.

Despite the heat behind their kiss last night, the passion that’d only grown as they’d eventually crashed through Chloe’s hotel room door with Beca’s fists clutching at the fabric of Chloe’s form-fitting black dress, Chloe’s manicured fingers raking through Beca’s neatly stage-styled curls, they had ultimately tapered off into a long, deep conversation in which Chloe had reiterated how long she’d been waiting for Beca to do that, to kiss her just like she had, and Beca had promised she had been waiting just as long. Chloe had explained, when they’d positioned themselves cross legged, face-to-face on the king-size bed with their fingers tangling comfortably through one another’s, that she had been trying to make her peace with the fact that it would never happen, and that she wasn’t entirely convinced that this wasn’t all a dream, that she would soon wake up and Beca would be long gone. It had been clear that they both harbored the same fears, and Beca’s heart had ached at the realization that they had waited such an unnecessarily long amount of time for something they both wanted, something they both _needed_.

Removing only their shoes and leather jackets, they had ultimately begun to give in to sleep in the safety of one another’s arms, lips brushing lazy pecks and comfortable kisses to each other’s as each whispered sleepy words of reassurance, of the fact that this was, in fact, so very real. It wasn’t just a kiss, not just a moment of last minute passion that both had unwittingly given into; there were feelings previously unspoken, and this truly was it for both of them. They were it… They _are_ it.

So, Beca was never going to leave, there really was no danger of Chloe having to wake up and find that she was gone, but Beca recognizes the fear, and responds with something of a small, understanding smile. “I told you I would be,” she says both quietly yet surely, and proceeds to melt beneath the sight of Chloe’s head ducking to brush a slow, tender peck against her lips. “Did you really think I’d leave?” Beca questions into the kiss, body shuffling this time until she is lying on her back, where she has a better view of Chloe’s face, easier access to those overly inviting lips.

As they part, with neither moving too far from the other, Chloe gently shrugs a shoulder in response. “I don’t know. I mean, I was hoping you wouldn’t,” she admits almost sheepishly, and Beca’s fingers naturally part as she feels Chloe’s hand resting over the top of her own, before Chloe murmurs a little more certainly, “I don’t want you to leave.”

And it has been less than a day now, less than a day since their first ever kiss—their first _meaningful_ kiss, anyway—but Beca knows already that this shared need they feel to be touching one another in some capacity is such a natural progression, one that she is certain she will never tire of. She has spent so much time holding back from Chloe Beale, after all. Beca realizes, as Chloe’s fingers slot so effortlessly between the parts in her own, with the pad of Beca’s thumb instinctively beginning to brush over the back of her knuckles, that this is what they have been missing. She isn’t going to miss it anymore.

In every imaginary, dream-like scenario in which she and Chloe have kissed—and there have been _many_ —Beca has never been the one to initiate it. She has wanted to, of course, but she has never managed to work up the nerves, not until last night, anyway. It seems that she is riding that same rush, running with that same energy, because it is Beca this time, too; it is Beca that lifts her head from the pillow after a moment of simply staring at those ocean blue eyes she has privately lost herself in on so many occasions before, to lift her free hand and to delicately cup Chloe’s cheek, then to close the gap between them again—this time with no intention of stopping.

Perhaps it is the feeling of Beca arching her neck to push her lips, slightly parted now, more fully against Chloe’s, that tells Chloe this might be the start of something a little more than just a kiss now, too, because she doesn’t try to pull back like they have done up until this moment. Or maybe, as usual, they are simply on the same page. Regardless, Chloe pushes her body upward to deepen the kiss, and as Beca’s hand drops from its position against her cheek to instead trail down her side where she can ultimately grasp at a slender hip beneath the bed sheets, Chloe moves with the same motion. Soon, she is twisting to drape her body over the top of Beca’s, knees digging into the mattress either side of Beca’s thighs. And this doesn’t have to go anywhere right now, it doesn’t have to lead to anything more than the more heated kissing it is turning out to be, but Beca realizes that she is not afraid of it doing so. Her hand trails to rest against the small of Chloe’s back, to press gently in an effort to pull Chloe’s body even closer into her own, and when Chloe finally pulls back to stare down at her, to search her face for any sign of a retreat and to ask her wordlessly if this is okay, Beca only stares back into those mesmerizing eyes, before softly nodding her head.

Chloe’s lingering gaze remains on her face only a short moment longer, before Beca’s head tips back slightly to welcome the feeling of soft, full lips pushing delicate kisses to the underside of her jaw. She feels the gentle vibration of Chloe’s quiet words against her skin as she murmurs, “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Although the words send a tingle down her spine, cause the wings of a thousand butterflies to begin flapping deep within her stomach, Beca knows already that she doesn’t want her to.

As Chloe’s parted lips begin to trail hot, lingering kisses down the side of her neck, soon peppering their way along her collarbone and toward the exposed part of her chest, Beca wants anything but for her to stop.

It is difficult for Beca not to want to explore, too. It would be so easy for the hand splayed across Chloe’s lower back to fall to the bunched up hem of her black dress, to slip beneath the fabric and to touch Chloe in the way Beca has wanted to for so long now, the way that has always seemed so forbidden, so off-limits. But it is hard for her to concentrate with Chloe’s lips continuing their meticulous exploration of her body, as they push needy, deliberate kisses down the exposed valley between her breasts, until she is kissing over the fabric of her dress. Beca stares down at her through hooded lids, eager to watch her every movement, to really soak in just how Chloe Beale looks in this moment, and Beca’s hand begins to fall, so far that she thinks she is about to do it, about to dip beneath to previously forbidden territory, before Chloe stops her with a whispered, “Can I take this off?”

Chloe pauses, darkened gaze lifting to study Beca’s expression, and there is a deep eagerness inside of Beca that begins to fight its way forward. She knows that she should be scared—she thinks she should be, anyway—but she finds that she is not. She is not afraid of doing this with Chloe; Beca wants all parts of her, the emotional and the physical included, and it strikes her, as she stares back into that deep ocean blue, that her lack of fear, of any hint of apprehension, is not strange nor wrong. Fear is nowhere to be found, because everything with Chloe feels so natural, so _normal_ , that to feel anything else would be the abnormality. Finally, as her free hand rises to cup Chloe’s rosy cheek, Beca responds with a soft, genuine smile, and a short, certain nod of her head.

This is absolutely not the first time they have seen one another’s bodies—Chloe literally walked into Beca’s shower the second ever time they met—they have shared a bed for a while now; privacy has been near impossible. There is something different about it this time, though. As they shuffle upright and Chloe’s hands fall to the hem of Beca’s dress, Beca’s instinctively doing the same to Chloe’s in return, there is a shared, silent understanding that they are seeing one another in a new light now. With each new patch of skin she reveals, Beca drinks in the sight of Chloe’s smooth skin, the perfect imperfections that make up her body, almost as if it is the first time, and Chloe does the same.

It is almost comical, the whiplash sensation of the two of them going from softly, quietly studying one another’s half-unclothed form, to the way two sets of eager hands reach out toward each other. Beca’s grasp at Chloe’s cheeks, wrists resting against that beautifully defined jawline, while Chloe’s settle on the sides of Beca’s neck, though they push their way around to slide long fingers through the back of Beca’s matted hair. And it is a testament really to just how well they have managed to hold back before now, just how much they truly do want each other, how much they have wanted each other all along.

One hand falls to rest against the mattress behind her, helping Beca to hold herself upright as Chloe’s body pushes to her own, effectively tipping her back. Desperate mouths fight against one another’s, with Chloe experimentally taking Beca’s bottom lip between her teeth. The eager atmosphere pulls a soft whimper from the back of Beca’s throat, and her other hand falls from Chloe’s face to begin fumbling with shaky fingers at the clasp of her bra.

And it does not feel weird nor wrong, as they pull back to deftly remove the now useless garments covering their upper halves. Their lips continue to push to one another’s, to exchange messy, hungry kisses, even as Chloe pushes Beca further, until she is lying on her back with her hands clutching at Chloe’s flushed cheeks. Beca whines quietly as Chloe’s lips finally pull away from her own, then begin to pepper kisses down the hot skin of her now bare chest, only more eager than she had been before. Trembling fingers find their way into messy ginger locks, and Beca tilts her face to watch as Chloe kisses over the hill of her breast, until kiss-swollen lips are wrapping hotly around the already stiffening peak of her nipple. Although her tongue moves slowly at first, it soon begins to flicker more urgently over the pebbled bud, and Beca cannot help the quiet moan she releases in response.

“You sound so good,” Chloe murmurs as she kisses her way back up to Beca’s lips, hand cupping at her other breast, and Beca cannot help but whimper again in response. She can feel the way Chloe’s lips twitch upward at the corners, and Beca’s proceed to do the same.

She wants to touch Chloe. God, she wants to touch Chloe so badly—she has wanted to touch Chloe for _so_ long now, in fact—but it is difficult for her to focus on doing much more than raking her hands through her hair, especially as Chloe’s hand, fingers trembling with both anticipation and the distinct feeling of newness, drops to settle over the smooth skin of Beca’s tensed stomach. They are on top of the covers now, but it is not the cool breeze from the air conditioner that causes the consequential shiver through Beca’s body. It is the way Chloe’s fingertips glide over prickling skin, until they are slipping to rest just beneath the waistband of her cotton panties.

Once more, Chloe pulls back, and Beca notes the way her faster breathing matches her own. Wordlessly, the way Chloe’s darkened gaze searches her own asks her if she can go on, and Beca once again responds with a soft nod of her head, before she is arching her face to recapture Chloe’s kiss-swollen lips with her own. Beca’s part now, tongue slipping through the seam in Chloe’s, and Chloe’s tongue reacts accordingly. It moves in sync with Beca’s, and Beca’s hips instinctively lift with the feeling of Chloe’s hand lowering to sweep the tip of her finger through the heat building between Beca’s legs.

And it could’ve gone this way last night, it really could’ve. But Beca is glad that it didn’t; she is grateful for their conversation, for the explicit knowledge that they are on the same page. Honestly, they have been on the same page for some time now, they just needed that extra push to finally admit it.

Beca _still_ cannot believe she is the one to have initiated that push.

It is not exactly unbelievable, the fact that Beca is already so wet, so ready for Chloe’s touch. She feels it with the ease at which Chloe’s finger slides against her, gliding seamlessly through swollen folds, and while their kisses become a little slower, a little lazier now, the speed of Chloe’s finger begins to pick up, until Beca is softly moaning into their punctured kisses. Her thighs easily part as Chloe’s hand lowers, this time to tease the tip of her finger through her heat until it is sinking somewhat slowly inside of her. It is Chloe’s turn to whimper at the sensation of her finger encased by pulsating walls, and soon a second finger is sliding in beside it.

“God, Beca,” Chloe murmurs as her fingers move to begin pushing tight circles into Beca’s aching clit, and Beca thinks that the sound of her name on Chloe’s lips in a moment such as this one should make her feel weird, but it doesn’t. If anything, it only turns her on more, and as Chloe’s free hand slips beneath Beca’s neck to curl long fingers around hot skin, Beca moans into the feeling, revels in the way Chloe already knows exactly how to touch her, exactly how to work her body.

In turn, Beca’s fingers grasp a little more harshly onto Chloe’s fallen curls, but as she arches upward to seek out familiar lips again, Chloe doesn’t let her reconnect them. Instead, she slows the previously relentless speed of her fingers, until she is stroking slowly over Beca’s highly sensitive clit, now sticky forehead tipping to rest delicately against Beca’s. The slower motion is no less pleasurable, of course, and Beca whimpers quietly into the softer air between them as she holds onto Chloe. Although her lids are closed, she can feel the way Chloe’s darkened eyes are drinking her in, taking in her expression as Beca’s tensed jaw falls slack.

“Bec, you’re so beautiful,” Chloe whispers through a shaky breath as her fingers sink inside of her again; the words, coupled with the action, pull another soft moan from Beca in response.

Chloe’s forehead is pressed to her own again by the time Beca reaches her peak and falls rapidly over the edge, with Chloe’s fingers slowing to coax her through her high. Sex has always just been sex before, it has never really meant all that much to Beca, but there is something so tender, so gentle about the way Chloe treats her body, about the way her fingers eventually slip from between her legs to glide delicately over her hip, until she can twist her more fully into the smooth curve of her own small frame, she knows that this is not like all of those other times; Chloe is not those other people. Beca is still holding onto the back of her hair, still keeping her close, and she whimpers softly into the new kiss Chloe brushes to her lips.

Chloe gives her a moment to come down, and Beca appreciates it, since her body is still pulsing with the aftershocks of her orgasm, hips still rocking to slowly mimic the way she’d previously been moving with Chloe’s fingers. She continues to push soft, lingering pecks to Beca’s lips, and Beca lazily returns each one.

“Was that okay?” Chloe asks in a soft voice, and Beca knows she is not necessarily referring to the sex, she isn’t asking her if that part was good for her. She is asking if _they_ are okay, if this has changed anything that it shouldn’t have between them.

Lids finally fluttering open to drink in that beautiful, familiar shade of ocean blue, Beca gently nods her head. “Of course it was okay,” she promises, quiet chuckle puffing from her nostrils. “Chlo, you’re fucking incredible,” Beca says, and melts at the natural smile to tug onto Chloe’s lips in response.

Beca has never much cared for cuddling post-sex, but laid here with her body tucked into Chloe’s, warmth radiating between them, she can certainly understand the appeal now. In fact, if she wasn’t so intent already on the fact that she wants to reciprocate, to make sure Chloe gets to feel all of the things she has just made her feel, the intense thought that Beca would happily stay like this forever flashes through her mind.

And maybe it seems fast; maybe, to the outside eye, it seems to have come from nowhere, but this is years of pent up, desperate longing. It is years of two people wanting each other so badly, but allowing their circumstances to get in the way, to keep them from reaching out and really clutching at what they have both been so eager to take. They are not two random people who casually kissed in a blind, last minute moment; they are two people who should’ve been doing this for so long now. They are two people who are _meant_ to be together, who are meant for so much more.

During their time on this tour, the Bellas have slipped into something of a routine. It is not too dissimilar to being back in college, in fact, when most of them lived under the same roof. Mealtimes—loud, loud mealtimes—normally happen together, and Beca doesn’t know what time it is, but she can venture a guess from the sunlight leaking in through the nearby window that it is probably around breakfast time. Fortunately, she doesn’t think the girls will be expecting them; they all saw them last night, they saw them kiss and then leave together. And Beca knows that, even if she has tried for all of these years to keep her feelings tightly tucked away and kept closely to her chest, somewhere deep down, the other girls have known. They have known this was a long time coming, too.

With that thought in mind, the thought that they have nowhere else to be, Beca stretches forward to brush her lips against Chloe’s again, though she doesn’t quite give Chloe the time to reciprocate, not before her mouth has begun to trail soft kisses toward her jaw. She can feel the relaxed smile easing its way onto Chloe’s face, and Beca cannot help but return the same notion. Chloe allows Beca to take control, allows her to push against her hip until Chloe is the one lying on her back with Beca hovering over the top of her, and Beca makes a point of never cutting her contact with Chloe’s body.

The same way Chloe had moments before, Beca begins to push a trail of eager pecks over freckle-dotted skin, pausing only briefly as she reaches the hill of her breast. Unlike Chloe, who has always been open about the fact that her sexuality is very much fluid, that this kind of scenario is definitely not new to her, Beca has never done this before, she has never touched another woman in this way. So, she is riding on instinct as she lowers her head to take a pebbled nipple between her lips, counting on Chloe’s reactions to tell her whether she is doing this right or not.

So far, as Beca’s tongue begins to sweep over the stiffening peak, Chloe does not seem to have any complaints. Like the tables have turned to mirror one another entirely, long fingers find their way into the back of Beca’s hair, and Beca takes comfort in the way Chloe’s fingertips brush softly along the back of her neck, trailing into her scalp. She feels the body beneath her shiver, hears the soft whimper to escape her lips, and the very sound causes a rush of heat to spring between Beca’s still trembling legs all over again.

“Just like that,” Chloe murmurs softly, as if she knows Beca wants the reassurance. It would seem that, as usual, they are in one another’s minds, like they can so effortlessly read each other, and Beca has never felt quite so grateful.

Satisfied that she has paid a sufficient amount of attention, Beca begins to pepper slow kisses toward the opposite side of Chloe’s chest, until she is taking the neglected nipple between her lips much more confidently than the first, and Chloe reacts with another soft whimper as Beca sucks at the pebbled flesh. Her tongue swirls, and Beca feels the way Chloe’s fingertips press a little more firmly into her neck, though it is not uncomfortable. If anything, it is actually kind of rewarding, it provides Beca with further fuel to begin making her way down Chloe’s body, lips never leaving the warm skin beneath her.

She feels the way defined abs tense beneath the feeling of her lips pushing hot, open-mouthed kisses against them, and Beca has never considered herself the most adventurous of people, much less in the bedroom, but it is just so easy with Chloe, it is easy for Beca to feel brave—and, not for nothing… Beca _really_ wants more.

Body lowering to slot between Chloe’s parted legs, Beca presses those same open-mouthed kisses along the smooth skin of her hip, pays attention to the dip that seems to be a point of particular sensitivity for Chloe, because she whimpers a little louder as Beca’s lips brush against it. And this is what Beca wants, she _wants_ to learn all of Chloe, and she knows that Chloe wants to learn all of her in return.

Beca knows where she wants to go from here. She thinks Chloe knows it, too, and while Beca is almost certain Chloe is not going to stop her, she feels the need to ask, to make sure that this is okay. This is so new to both of them, this is all a case of figuring one another out, of seeing what is and isn’t allowed. On Beca’s part, very little is off-limits to Chloe, but she wants to make sure that they are both on the same page. The question comes out as more of a needy statement than anything, though, as Beca murmurs quietly against her skin, “I want to taste you.”

“Fuck,” is Chloe’s initial response. It is released through a shaky breath, and Beca pulls back slightly to stare up at her through hooded lids, in time for Chloe to nod her head. It occurs to her, as her hooded gaze meets Chloe’s darkened eyes, that she has likely been watching her this whole time, and there is something so intimate, so ridiculously appealing about the thought that Beca cannot help the way her thighs clench in reaction.

“Is that okay?” Beca questions as she sits to arch her body until she can capture Chloe’s lips with her own in a more languid kiss this time. In turn, Chloe’s palm cups her cheek in such a comforting way, and she proceeds to eagerly accept the reassuring peck.

“Definitely okay,” Chloe murmurs against Beca’s lips, the two finally parting at the same time to connect their hungry gazes.

A mixture of adrenaline, quiet nervousness and unbridled excitement crashes through Beca, and she drops another soft kiss to the corner of Chloe’s mouth, before sitting back to hook unsteady fingers beneath the waistband of Chloe’s navy colored panties.

It feels almost strange to look, almost intrusive, but Beca cannot help the way her hungry gaze sweeps over Chloe’s body as she begins to peel the garment down her thighs. She moves only to slide them all the way off, then positions herself between Chloe’s legs again, hands immediately finding their way to the hot skin of her thighs. And Beca has seen Chloe naked before, Beca has seen Chloe naked before on many, many occasions, in fact, but she has never quite taken all of her in like this, never felt like she was allowed to. She studies her with sheer longing, with a new sense of appreciation, until she has begun to lower again to press small, deliberate kisses to Chloe’s inner thigh.

Again, Beca really does not know what she is doing, but she takes cues from Chloe’s body as she finally kisses her way between her legs, lips instinctively wrapping around the sensitive flesh just begging for her attention. Her lids flutter shut as the flat of her tongue presses against her, and Beca savors that very first taste, revels in the way Chloe’s thighs instantly begin to shake.

Beca realizes quickly that prior preparation would’ve been unnecessary, because it proves easy for her tongue to glide against Chloe’s sensitive clit, for her lips to instinctively suck and her tongue to point and begin moving in a flickering motion, to which Chloe seems to heartily approve.

“Like that,” Chloe encourages again, though her words are a little more distracted this time, voice a little softer through her shakier breathing. Long fingers wind their way into brunette locks once more, and Beca continues to take cues from Chloe’s body about what she likes and what she doesn’t. She can feel the way Chloe’s hips rock gently in time with her own movements, pushing her further into her touch, and Beca responds with a quiet moan of her own as she runs her tongue through swollen folds.

As the speed of Beca’s strangely deft movements picks up, the grip Chloe has on her hair tightens, and Beca finds that she actually kind of likes the gentle force. She allows Chloe to guide her, until Beca is experimentally lifting a hand to push two fingers slowly inside of her, and Chloe lets out an immediate moan at the double dose of pleasure.

She surprises herself with the way she manages to keep up the movement of her fingers sinking inside of her and her tongue moving against her. Beca revels in the feeling of pulsing walls tightening around her two fingers, and by the time Chloe comes through a series of strained moans and loud whimpers, the tips of Beca’s fingers are curved to brush against her. She eventually slows to coax Chloe through her orgasm, unable to resist cleaning her up with her tongue, before she is begrudgingly pulling away to begin trailing wet kisses back up Chloe’s body. Chloe trembles beneath her, and Beca takes a certain amount of satisfaction from the movement. The moment she is close enough for her to do so, Chloe uses the hand in her hair to tug Beca’s face toward her own until she can push a hungry kiss to Beca’s glistening lips, and Beca cannot pull back her small smirk at the way Chloe is still moaning into the kiss.

It takes Chloe a moment—several moments, in fact—to pant through the remnants of her orgasm, and Beca stays close enough to rest her sticky forehead against Chloe’s, taking in the way she glows post-sex. It is a sight Beca is positive she will never grow tired of, and when Chloe’s lids finally flutter open to reveal bright blue hues, Beca doesn’t even try to look away.

It is obvious that the smug look on Beca’s face has not fallen, considering the way Chloe releases a breathy chuckle in response. The grip she has on Beca’s hair loosens, but her hand never falls, and soon Chloe’s fingertips are brushing over the back of her neck again in a way that serves to both soothe and comfort Beca beyond belief.

“You’ve done that before, huh?” Chloe asks with a hint of mischievous curiosity. Her gaze falls to Beca’s mouth, and Beca leans in to brush another soft kiss to inviting lips, head gently shaking as she eventually pulls back.

“Uh, no,” she admits somewhat sheepishly, cheeks growing hotter beneath Chloe’s lingering stare.

Chloe’s head tips slightly, mild amusement portrayed in her expression. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Beca clarifies through a quiet chuckle. Regardless of her shy demeanor, Beca cannot help the sense of pride bubbling within her at the in-not-so-many-words compliment. “You’re the first.”

Chloe only hums in response, fingers finally letting go of her hair to instead wind her arm around Beca’s neck. Again, Chloe pulls Beca closer, tucking her comfortably into her body, and Beca melts in the natural way they so easily slot together. Chloe’s lips push to the top of her head, and as Beca’s hand rests against her chest, she takes note of the way its rapid rising and falling motion begins to slowly even out. “I want to be the last,” Chloe whispers, and the implication does not scare Beca the way she would expect it to.

In fact, she doesn’t even lift her head; she rests it against Chloe’s warm shoulder, own breathing finally regulating, and Beca says in the softest voice, “I want that, too.”

There is a stillness around them, a sense of calm and of total normality as they lay tangled up together, basking in their new situation, their new normal. With anybody else, Beca wouldn’t know where to go from here. She would spend a few moments in her head, wondering when it was acceptable to shuffle away, awkwardly tell them she had a good time, then to scramble for her clothes. She has no such desire with Chloe, though. In fact, the thought enters her mind again that, if she could, she would stay like this with Chloe forever.

She doesn’t know how much time passes before Chloe breaks the comfortable silence, but Beca glances up at her as she does, and her heart flutters at the simple sight of Chloe’s glowing features. Last night’s makeup is smudged and patchy on her pale skin, flecks of mascara dotted beneath her eyes, but all Beca can think of is just how perfect she looks, how unbelievably lucky she feels to be the person who gets to do this with Chloe, who gets to just be here with her.

“Think we should go get breakfast?” Chloe mumbles, glancing downward to meet Beca’s gaze. Her hand had moved to rest against Beca’s upper arm at some point, and her fingertips never cease the delicate way they stroke against smooth skin.

“Probably,” Beca agrees, though neither makes any effort to move at first. Instead, Chloe ducks her head at the same time as Beca arches hers, until they are able to push a chaste kiss to one another’s lips.

Although Beca has never felt happier, never felt more sure of anybody or anything in her entire life, she cannot fight the pessimist within her that forces her to ask in a smaller voice as they eventually part, “This doesn’t feel weird to you, right?”

Subtly, auburn brows tug together, and Chloe responds with a gentle shake of her head. “No,” she promises in no uncertain tone, “No, it doesn’t feel weird…” she pauses then, curious eyes searching Beca’s expression. “Does it feel weird to you?”

Beca’s response is immediate. “No, definitely not weird. I just… I don’t know, wanted to check.”

Chloe’s breathy laugh precedes her ducking her head to push a soft peck to the apple of Beca’s cheek. “Thank you for checking. It’s different,” Chloe adds, “But it’s the good kind of different. The kind where I feel like I’ve been waiting for it, and now that it’s here it just feels right.” Her shoulder shrugs gently, and Beca watches the way Chloe’s lips tug upward into a small, almost bashful smile. “ _You_ feel right, Bec.”

If anybody was to tell Beca that she would be ending this tour with everything she has ever wanted—okay, so the recording contract is something she never really knew she wanted, but that incredible turn of events somehow pales in comparison to this—she would absolutely not have believed them. But Chloe’s words resonate with her in a way that tugs at Beca’s heart, that makes it feel so full, so whole.

She arches upward again to brush her lips against Chloe’s. “I get it, Chlo,” she says in a quiet voice, accepting the small peck Chloe drops to her lips in return, “You feel right, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me [right here](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com).


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